Sam and I had dinner at Jennifer’s house last night. Once the wine was poured and the conversation began to flow, she interrupted us with her delightfully twangy Mississippi accent, “Oh, before I forget, and before he gets back from the store – I sent him out for bread – I have this guy staying here for a couple of weeks. His name is Flo… short for Florent. He’s this hot, straight, French soccer player, and ice skater, and his body is flawless. I mean he’s an athlete and all, but he’s also 23, because you know, there’s everything you can do to have a great body,” she said fluttering her hand over her midsection, “and then there’s 23.” Continue reading ‘Hello, Would You Please Take Your Shirt Off?’

Gwen and Gavin’s Los Feliz home is up for sale. It’s a flawless, 1928 Mediterranean north of the boulevard. In this economy, it’s a lot of ducats for a mere 5,000 sq. ft., but if you’re into Gwen, tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock.

A barbecue with our friend Sonny the rodeo rascal, and his partner, Ken, a man who radiates wisdom and safety. Everyone in attendance, under 30, checking their Blackberries at 7pm, doubtlessly looking to the next event of the evening. The Sex and the City release party we just didn’t have the stamina for, and Sam’s subsequent nightmare that I’d added Sarah Jessica Parker curls to his head, and then left him for a latino boy with a bubble butt. That’s ridiculous. Continue reading ‘A Raspberry Memorial Day Weekend in Hollywood’

“We all remember Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in June in California.”

The high in Sioux Falls, SD was only 63 yesterday, so she isn’t crazy from the heat. The ongoing stress of the campaign? Lack of nookie? Freudian slip? What else would have made Hillary depart utterly from sanity and good taste and infer that she might still have a shot if somebody had one for Obama?

Let’s be honest, it’s the great big elephant in the room. We’ve all worried about it, or at least I have, but I’m not running for office.

Maybe W will learn how to spell the word now. Ass. Ass. I. Nation.
Not even he could get that wrong.